Lies Between Cousins
by Mamablue
Summary: Ghosts of the past forever nip at our heels, lies cast long shadows and eventually one Duke boy will have to face his past and the other his greatest fear.
1. Chapter 1

First and foremost, the usual disclaimers apply...I do not own, do not profit, etc...etc...

Second, and FYI, I dislike death fics and love the happy ending. It might just take a bit to get there!

Third, enjoy!

Mama~

/

Lies Between Cousins

The clank of metal echoed through the meadow as two angry fists beat down on the cherished orange racecar. This was all wrong, from the letter, to the supposed jump, to this damned memorial service. There was nothing about this that felt right. He could feel the sense of frustration, the fear of loss, the panic at being the one left behind well up inside, steal his breath. He reminded himself to breathe….in through his nose, out through his mouth an age old skill he seemed to have forgotten. The events of the last week had stolen his ability to think…to function as he had come to expect. Letting his breath out slowly through tightly clenched teeth, he tried to control his racing heart.

"It's time, Suga." The sudden voice, the tentative hand on his shoulder, the matter of fact statement all struck a chord in his tightly coiled muscles. He spun too fast, too angry. They had always treated Daisy with a gentle hand and for just a moment he saw the fear in her eyes…the uncertainty written on her face, before the hurt surfaced and he looked into those same sad eyes that mirrored his own. She sat mere steps from where he stood, whether she had lost her balance or had just lost the will to fight him anymore, he wasn't sure. He did know that she could just as well have been miles away – the space between them seemed just too far and too painful to bridge.

"Daisy-girl?" He stepped forward only to be forcibly turned. A prelude to the coming explosion because the tension, the anger, the frustration needed release – either explode or implode and he'd been walking the precipice for days. When fist hit jaw, it felt good…it felt solid and real and easy…too easy - the return punch never felt. His friend - self appointed shadow and guardian - had taken the punch accepted his anger without hesitation.

"I ain't gonna let ya hurt Daisy, Buddy Roe, it's a regret ya don't need." Cooter's words were garbled and sounded wet and liquid tinged and for a moment he saw the Cooter of their younger days instead of Representative Davenport. Yet here was the polished politician, sitting on his rump spitting blood from a split lip into the grass in a meadow next to Hazzard creek…the same creek that he'd been told had taken his cousins' life. Reaching down, he offered a hand to one of his oldest and dearest friends as he spoke, "I wouldn't, couldn't hurt Daisy, Cooter," his offering cut short by the barely contained anger he heard from over his shoulder.

"But ya are…whether ya intend to or not!" This was Daisy's protector. LA police detective, Enos Strate, the slightly inept former Hazzard Deputy who made it big in LA. He returned to Hazzard with a seeming loss of innocence and a strength that surprised his childhood friends. Dukes had always out smarted, out run and out planned Hazzard law, but there was little doubt Enos Strate could now give them a run for their money. The outcome of a good chase or a well conceived plan would no longer be assured if Enos was around.

Turning, he saw Enos had helped Daisy to her feet and tightly tucked her behind him. It was the first time he saw the scene for what it was. .. Cooter was protecting him from himself, Daisy's fear was for him, Enos' anger was directed at him for making this harder on his family and he…he was lost. His anger had taken days to build and in moments he felt it dissipate as quiet as a whisper on the morning breeze, but what it left behind wasn't refreshing or soothing - it was harsh and bright…too painful to acknowledge.

"Daisy?" His whisper hurt although he wasn't sure why and he blindly held out his arms waiting for what he did not deserve. Absolution would not come without repentance though because Daisy was a Duke and as prideful and stubborn as they come. He felt and heard the slap as it was dealt. The sting on his cheek reminding him of his sins before she folded herself into his arms giving the comfort she needed as badly as he. When she had cried a day's worth of tears she slowly pulled away and he felt a gentle hand on his cheek. Her hand fit easily into the handprint her slap had left behind. Her words were gentle yet delivered a demand that left no room for discussion. "Ya ain't the only one who lost 'im, Suga, stop actin' like you're the only one whos' grievin'." He smiled, a sad little smile, as he grabbed her hand. He had his wake up call. He may think all of this was wrong, but if they needed to grieve, he could not take that away from them. Placing a kiss on her palm, he nodded and handed her over to the Hazzard fold. They had pulled together…all returned to support their own and he needed to trust in that …needed to have faith that the bonds created in a small town would hold no matter how far they traveled…no matter how large their life got. "Daisy-girl. Ya go with Cooter, back to the memorial service..." she held him at arm's length her probing eyes seeing more then he wanted… "I'll follow ya, Daisy, I promise. I just need ta talk ta Enos for a minute. I'll be there."

She must have seen what she wanted in his eyes, because a hug and a peck on the cheek later she and Cooter were heading back to the farm in Daisy's Jeep, Dixie, while a companionable silence had settled between him and Enos. They stood side by side, leaning against the General, both staring at the spot in the creek where Jesse's truck had been found. Taking a deep breath, he forced the needed words past the lump in his throat. "This ain't right Enos, none of this adds up."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the wonderful response (reviews and PM's) to this story. It makes it a pleasure to write. I just hope I do not disappoint!

As always, all the usual disclaimers apply...I do not own, do not profit, etc.

Enjoy,

Mama~

/

Enos rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Funny, in LA, he had achieved the rank of detective. He carried a gold shield that automatically commanded respect – a respect he'd earned in his own right well prior to its receipt. However, here in Hazzard where life seemed to burn bigger and brighter, he felt small. Silently, he reminded himself of just how far he had come before addressing the tortured man standing next to him. "Tell me…." He spoke quietly. Somehow the anger of moments ago had no place here.

Pushing off the General, he took a few anxious steps forward. Suddenly, things seemed too close and he needed space. He knew the time had come to share his feelings, but he had never been good at that. Nodding solemnly, he crouched to yank a blade of grass from its home, fiddling and shredding as he spoke. "They say he drove straight in, Enos….why?" It was a hesitant sad question. One no one could answer, but he felt the need to ask. "If he wasn't bein' chased, why was he goin' fast enough ta flip the truck?" It was another unanswerable question. "They watched his body float downstream, but where? Why ain't he been found?" The frustration welled and he was on his feet. With a wide sweep of his hand, he tried to justify his cousins' actions. "Maybe he wanted ta jump…missed flyin'…but then why the truck? He had the General."

They were getting nowhere. These were the same questions they all had. There were no answers because none of them had been there that day. Treading forward, Enos risked the explosion they had all come to expect and placed a consoling hand on his friends shoulder. "We ain't never goin' ta know those answers. Only what the witnesses said they saw. Ain't none of us here at the time and… I…." Enos closed his eyes and shook his head before continuing, "I ain't believin' what they say," They'd all heard the rumors. He may not know what happened, but he couldn't believe it was intentional.

He couldn't help the growl that emanated from deep within at Enos' words. He wouldn't acknowledge or give those rumors credence. It was now or never though. With a giggle borne from sheer nerves as well as the sudden image of his cousin ribbing him about the dress attire his uncle felt appropriate for the service, he reached in his inside jacket pocket and pulled the well worn, memorized, tear stained letter from the pocket of his jacket. It was his last connection. It seemed the only time he was able to let his guard down, let himself feel the pain was when he poured over every word. "We know…I know…it just don't make sense!" He shoved the letter into Enos hand, shaking his head sadly before making his way back to the General. Slowly climbing in, he waited until Enos joined him before heading back to the farm.

The silence on the way back was deafening…almost worse than being alone. Although alone he could wallow, now he tried to read Enos' thoughts. Obviously, LA had taught him something. He wasn't even privy to a stutter. "Enos…please…." He hated asking for help, but he hated floundering even more.

"Ya don't jump up." Out of context, Enos' words made no sense.

As they arrived back at the farm, he put the General in park and raised an eyebrow at Enos who slowly climbed out of the car before clarifying his thought. "Ya was wonderin' if he missed flyin'…if he wanted ta jump. Far side a' the creek was higher than the meadow. Ya don't jump up 'specially if ya have nothin' ta take off of…." Patting his jacket pocket, he could feel the letter inside. "I'm gonna chew on this a bit."

He sighed, pulling himself up on the window frame before slowly climbing out of the car that now brought back bittersweet memories. "Maybe I should just retire 'im, Enos…drivin' 'im ain't much fun."

With a shrug, Enos slowly climbed the three stairs toward the front door. "Don't …not yet, anyways. Ya comin' or am I draggin'."

He was back to reminding himself how to breathe….in through his nose….out through his mouth. _Did Enos just threaten him?_ For the second time today the corner of his lip curled just a bit at the thought. "I'm comin', just give me a minute…" A quick nod was all the acknowledgement he received before the front door closed and he was left staring at the outside of the farmhouse. It was the damned purple and black bunting that lined the railing and hung over the door. He couldn't get past the bunting. It spoke of death. It made everything he was trying to run from real. It made his pain tangible.

Leaning down to look in the side view mirror, he straightened the blasted tie he was forced to wear, buttoned his jacket and slowly made his way toward the house. He would deliver this speech. He would allow Daisy to cry on his shoulder and convince Jesse that there was nothing he could have done. He would push his anger and frustration aside and be there for his family. He would not, however, mourn his cousin. He was the oldest. Protecting his family had been drilled into him from his earliest memories. It was what was expected and Luke Duke always did what was expected of him….even if the whole thing was slowly tearing him apart.


	3. Chapter 3

First, as always, I thank all for their interest, replies and PM's it makes it all worthwhile.

Second, all the usual disclaimers apply...I do not own, do not profit, etc...

Third, we begin to get some answers here, but it is through an OC, not my favorite vehicle, but what divides our boys... hypnotism, amnesia or girls - ergo, I needed one.

I only hope I can successfully bring her to life.

Forth, I run un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Enjoy,

Mama~

/

Luke sat on the porch looking out into the lightening sky. The house was quiet now. For a while, he could hear Daisy puttering around the house before she ran out of busy work and decided to try and lay down. Jesse was so tired, he could barely stand when he announced he was 'gonna rest his eyes a mite'. That was hours ago. Everyone else had slowly left except Cooter and Enos who left right quick after the service. It seemed so…unnatural…the lack of a body to sit with, to bury… Luke wished now he had taken Bo's letter back. It was these quiet hours – when their bedroom… his bedroom now… seemed too big, too lonely that he would sit out here agonizing over every word.

Sighing, he eyes dropped to the Mason jar in his hand, following the last dregs of the swirling liquid as his hand made nervous circles. He hadn't heard the sound of the screen door until his uncle sat beside him, placed a comforting hand on the back of his neck. When would they understand, he didn't want comfort. He wanted answers. He wanted action. He wanted anything, but this danged acceptance.

"Ya need ta figure a way ta have a bit a peace with it, boy." His uncle's words sounded hollow without conviction. Luke handed over the last of his shine. His uncle smiled sadly, but took the jar, tilted his head back and drained what was left without thought. "We all do." Luke was the hardest of his three youngins' to read, but these nighttime meetings had become somewhat a ritual for them over the years. It was a time of reverence where Luke seemed to speak of things that seemed taboo in the harsh light of day. Jesse had raised all three of his charges with the same sense of right and wrong, same strong hand, same sensibilities, but Luke had been given a huge burden by being the oldest…one he took very seriously and one that was now wearing at his soul. Luke seemed to be putting distance between them that Jesse couldn't handle.

He couldn't help the sigh that escaped as he pulled his aging bones up from the step. It seemed to him he had aged a decade in the last few days. "This is a right sad time, Lukas, but ya's choosin' to tear what's lefta this family apart. I won't have it. We need ya, boy." A silly dictum, Jesse couldn't stop this anymore than Luke could.

This time Luke heard the door that left him to his loneliness. He welcomed the silence that cloaked his quiet tears. He didn't need the letter. It was indelibly etched in his memory, burned in his heart…

_Lukas,_

_If you are reading this cuz, things must not have turned out as expected. You must know, I love you all, very much. Make sure Uncle Jesse and Daisy know that too. You tell them Luke. Tell them I couldn't have a better life. It may not be a usual family, but it is ours…strong, true and loving. I have no regrets Lukas; make sure they know that too, okay._

_Sometimes, things happen we have no control over, Luke. Our time in NASCAR showed me that. Maybe Bobby had the right of it…death was easier than living. Ghosts cast long shadows, cuz and they followed me to Hazzard. My choices came back to haunt me._

_I said I have no regrets, Luke, but I do have one. I lied to you cousin, I kept secrets I had no business knowing. You were willing to live in my shadow as crew chief, knowing that it would be me that would shine. You were willing to walk away from NASCAR knowing I couldn't continue. You asked no questions and it was easy to give no answers. They weren't my secrets to tell, Lukas, but they lay between us just the same. I'm trying to make them right, cousin. I love you Lukas. No matter what you hear in the days to come, remember that, okay._

_Remember how it was, cuz - flying through the air, running from Roscoe. Remember when Enos was the best law we had in Hazzard. Remember, Cousin. Everything is to protect those I love. You would expect no less…do no less, Lukas._

_Your Cousin in Name, Brother in Blood,_

_Bo_

Luke could recite every word, but he could make sense of little. Bo was one of the few who knew Bobby's death wasn't a suicide. Heck, he was the one who found the cut gas line and leaving NASCAR was a mutual decision after Bobbie's death. He never begrudged Bo's chance to shine. He was the better driver. Luke was the better mechanic – although Bo would probably argue with that. Fact is, they were better together then they ever were apart. What could Bo think had put such distance between them? Letting out a heavy breath, Luke let his head fall to the railing. Secrets, lies and ghosts, it all swirled in his head, like those final dregs of shine in the long empty Mason jar.

/

Staring in the mirror, Mary took in the image that stared back. She had chosen a simple pony tail for today and with a final tug, finally finished her ministrations. Plain - no baubles, nothing fancy. She would blend in perfectly. She was as was always intended - nothing and no one, an enigma meant to be the perfect chameleon. As she exited the small bathroom and entered the only other room in her tiny apartment, her eyes briefly swept over the room. It was as simple and unadorned as she was. One half held a small table, a chair and a hot plate. The other side held a bed and a nightstand. The only personal item in the room was a framed picture that stood next to the lamp on the nightstand. It was a breach of policy, Mary knew that, but she could not bring herself to destroy it. She had been alone for as long as she could remember, but that assignment…that one case brought her as close as she would ever be to family bonds, to love so strong it left her breathless and wanting. Before she knew it, she had crossed the room and held the small frame in her hands. It was so unlike her. In her life every move was measured, timed perfectly, created for the effect. Tracing the dual faces as they smiled back at her, she sighed. Her choice had already been made. There was no going back. Opening the drawer of the bedside stand, she placed the picture inside, closing it off in shadow and darkness - just as she had her heart. Today the picture held too many bittersweet memories. She could not afford the preoccupation. Personal attachments were distractions and distractions were dangerous and deadly. She had lost that focus once and Bobby had died as a result.

Grabbing her keys, Mary left her apartment and ascended the dimly lit stairs into the bright morning of LA. The buildings, the noise, the rush, all brought comfort in their familiarity. She knew every inch of this city. She could crawl its underbelly and hobnob with its rich. Taking the long way to work today, Mary enjoyed the time. She had been much too distracted lately. She switched her routine as she did every day - never take the same route two days in a row, never buy your coffee in the same place twice, never befriend the guy who sold you the morning paper, they were rules she lived by. Conformity like distractions was a liability. Her life was high risk and the need for safety brought with it a stifling isolation few could penetrate.

Their offices were located on one of the most run down blocks in Los Angeles and were as nondescript as the rest of her life. The old warehouse housed one of the most well kept secrets in LA's law enforcement community, a special team cloaked in secrecy and anonymity - The Ghosts. Rounding the final turn, she was half way to the door before Mary noticed it. The large black car sitting outside the Ghosts front door - it was out of place, much too conspicuous. It spoke of trouble. It marked the Ghosts. It stood out in its size. It was clearly an unmarked and its presence endangered them all.

"Mary Jo," she heard her name called through the open window, but she kept on walking past the door to the Ghosts, past the car. She ignored it when the front doors of the car opened and she knew she was being followed. "Mary Jo!" The call was louder as she turned the corner and waited….and waited….until he rounded the same corner and she grabbed him, shadowed her body with his. They were now in a romantic tangle, a morning moment – at least to those who passed. Speaking low, she drew him close to her, her words meant only for him, "Enos Strate! I don't know whether to kiss ya or throttle ya. You know better than this." She chastised before giving him a chaste peck on the cheek. "I missed you though!"

"Ain't a social call Miss Mary." Enos spoke quickly while handing over a copy of the Hazzard County Gazette and Luke's letter. He couldn't help the blush that colored his cheeks at their proximity. He may have gotten use to LA, but he was still a country boy at heart - being this close to a woman – even under pretense, left him flustered.

Mary watched as Enos blushed, enjoying just for a moment the power she had. It was part of the reason she drew him in, whispered so close to his ear she was sure he could feel her breath. Enos Strate was one of the best detectives she knew. His instincts were spot on. His willingness to observe without action made him a cut above the rest. He was raised in a different life though and it left him pure and honest…innocent to a fault…and sometimes, as selfish as it seemed, it felt good to touch that.


	4. Chapter 4

"So let us begin anew - remembering on both sides that **civility** is not a sign of weakness."

_**John Fitzgerald Kennedy**_(May 29, 1917 - November 22, 1963)

First, I thank everyone for all the replies and PM's to my little offering. The response has been overwhelming.

Second, all the usual disclaimers apply, I do not own, do not profit. It is all in good fun.

Third, this is more of a connecting piece, but you need the information for the rest of the story to make sense.

Third, enjoy

Mama~

/

The plane ride to Atlanta was one of the longest Mary Jo had ever endured. She sat sandwiched between Representative Davenport…Cooter, as she had been told to call him, and Enos who seemed to take up fidgeting as a recent pastime. Cooter drove the small rental car on the last leg on their journey grumbling all the while about suspension, brakes and shocks. He may be a Washington Representative, but he hadn't forgotten his roots. Mary Jo envied him that; she had no roots, no family, and no ties. The closer they came to Hazzard the more Enos fidgeted…the quieter Cooter became and the more she reflected on her past life. There was nothing left for her in LA now and she wondered if heading to rural Georgia to follow two plow boys…two pawns in a NASCAR parts and engine case…was the right choice. Then again, it really was no choice. She had grown to love them. Closing her eyes, she thought about her final exchange with The Ghosts. It seemed too easy and too hard at the same time. It was…final.

"_Mary Jo. You mind telling me why I have a Representative from Washington calling me? Why LAPD suddenly seems so interested in you? For an organization that is supposed to be low key, we are certainly on everybody's radar today!" Her boss was angry, but then again Special Agent John Walden always had an edge to him – never quite a friend, but not enemy either._

"_John, I had no idea, but now that I do, you know I'm going to Hazzard." It was a statement. She had not asked for permission and that alone had John Walden practically leaping over the desk at her. "So I've been told!" The venom was clear. "Your…what is it you call them?…plowboys… cost Bobby his life, Mary Jo!" The anger misplaced. Bobby's death lay squarely on her shoulders. He knew that – never blame the pawns…those you have chosen to manipulate. She failed to watch Bobby's back. She got distracted. "If you do this, you're on your own…You'll get no help from me!" He waved his hand in emphasis signaling toward the open room outside his claustrophobic office. "…from us!" It was a rash decision, one made in haste, but when she walked out she left her service revolver and badge on a second hand desk in a musty warehouse in a nondescript corner of Los Angeles…and with that life as she knew it came to a grinding halt._

"Pull Over, Cooter." Mary Jo was brought out of her musing's by Enos' directive, "Come on." He spoke to no one in particular but both she and Cooter followed. They both seemed to have a destination in mind. Mary Jo paused for a moment at a summit overlooking a lush green meadow with a creek that cut its path through the center of a perfectly created landscape. The far side of the creek held more pine trees that she had seen in her life time. It was breathtaking. She let the warm Georgia wind pass over her, through her, and bring with it the scent of the pine…the sound of the water. Somehow everything seemed greener, more vibrant…alive here. Sighing, she tagged along heading down toward the meadow knowing there was only one reason Enos would have detoured. The bottom and reality came back all too quickly.

"What do you see Enos?"

"This is our scene Mary. He went in the water ov'a there." A quick tilt of his head over toward the area he spoke of. "Witnesses saw his body floatin' with the current around the closer of those two bends." A quick flick of his eyes indicated the creek.

Her anxiety had her speaking a little too harshly when she chuffed, "Facts, Enos. You're giving me facts I can get from any police report! I need to know what you see. What's not right?"

"Possum on' a gum bush, Mary Jo!" It was the closest Enos Strate ever came to cursing and it spoke of the emotions churning within him. He took several steps toward the edge of the slow moving water and crouched low, balancing his chin on his steepled fingers… "I'm too close ta this." He spoke into the breeze knowing she wouldn't be far.

"We both are, Enos." It was the simple truth and it scared them…too close you made mistakes and if Bo Duke was alive he couldn't afford mistakes. "Close your eyes." A simple request he followed without question. "Remember this place? Remember playing here, growing up here? Remember the way it looked…smelled? She hoped to bring him out of the tension that held them both captive. "Now open them?" A deep inhalation followed by a slow exhalation later he opened them seeing through clearer eyes. "What are we missin', Enos? What's nigglin' at your gut?"

He would have liked to say memories, lost time, lost opportunities, There were a dozen things about Hazzard County that were 'nigglin' at his gut', but none of that helped. He needed to be LA Detective Enos Strate, not Hazzard County's 'dipstick' - tamping down fears and insecurities borne in these hills a lifetime ago. He spoke, "Water's receding this time a year. Creek's runnin' slower, narrow here. No place to hide, no place to run, no place to jump. Better places iffn' ya wanted to kill yerself. Bo'd know all that. Witnesses said they saw the truck enter and flip…." Jumping to his feet, Enos's words faltered as his stare fixed on the far bank.

"Enos?"

Enos shook his head, wanting to get his thoughts in line before he spoke. His words though spoke of the memories that were as much a part of him as breathing. "Cooter, what do you see when you drive that ridge? His eyes still fixed on the road above the pine barons. She had forgotten Cooter was here. He seemed to have an innate understanding of their need to work this through systematically through trained eyes.

""Not much this time'a year suns low, pine stays high, lush…" the two spoke together suddenly connecting a piece… "Widow's Nose!" A wide grin slowly crept across Cooters' chin as if finally believing what had always been in front of him.

"Mary Jo, the witnesses couldn't have seen the truck flip or Bo's body from where they said they were." He stood facing her, the days strain tensing every muscle. Enos was tall, sinewy and she barely reached his chest. Her arm at its length when she reached for the nape of his neck, tugging slightly till his forehead met hers. He would never return her touch – that would be improper, but his muscle relaxed slightly as she spoke. "You did well, Enos. Now what does that mean to us?"

"Means we head on ov'a ta Widows Nose, either them witnesses lied or they were at the Nose."

The Nose turned out to be a short five minute walk from where they were. From their side of the creek, there was little change. However, the creek was wider here and the pine on the opposite side, leaner and divided with a rock abutment the locals had dubbed, Widow's Nose. To Mary's eyes it did look like an old scarred nose jutting from the landscape.

Step by step they inched over the newly decided territory looking for anything out of place.

"Enos" Cooter called quietly, indicating the large overgrowth of root laden thicket. The thicket was where you hid from Hazzard law when skinny dipping. Once in, there was only one way out and that was underwater - out the way you came in, or you risk a weeks' worth of healing. One thing for sure, the way that thicket was trampled, no local went through there. The sun was dipping low on the horizon and dusk would be setting in soon. They needed to work with speed and caution. As it turned out, neither would be necessary. Enos had given a wide birth when approaching, careful of every placed step. The ebb and flow of the water, however, had not been so careful and had washed over the banks daily since the truck had been found. His first discovery was a partially washed away boot print, useless as trace. His second discovery, sitting just inside the thicket, was a sight that caused his heart to soar with hope and his stomach to drop with fear. It was just as weathered and useless as the boot print, but it was tangible proof, something real and solid...the remnants of a blond wig.


End file.
